


Pomegranate

by smuttyandabsurd



Series: Perv Series [13]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Purple Prose, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smuttyandabsurd/pseuds/smuttyandabsurd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred is abducted by the god of the underworld.</p><p>Russia/America. Bastardization of the <em>Rape of Persephone</em> myth. Originally a request on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pomegranate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the line I lost the thread of things and here we are.

All he had known was summer – the tickle of ripening wheat as he ran his hands over the tips, the wind sighing as it rippled through the endless golden fields, the heat beating down on his shoulders in warm glorious rays from a cloudless sky.

Then one day the ground cracked open at his feet and the world shattered.

He had stood wide-eyed as a chariot burst thundering forth, drawn by four black mares with mad rolling eyes and spoiled foaming mouths, a well-built man with bright cruel eyes pulling hard at their reins. He saw that wherever their hooves landed, the grass and wildflowers would wither, frozen to ice crystals. He could not remember much of what came after. The rest – the  _violation_  – he remembered only in flashes; the burn of frost as he was pinned to the ground, the act itself a horrific agony ripping through him, and the tears stinging his eyes as he screamed his voice raw.

And now all he knew was darkness – cold, clammy and quiet.

He learnt of the touch of leather-clad hands brushing stray locks of hair out of his eyes and running cool fingertips down his naked flesh. He learnt that kisses could be sweet if he was yielding, vicious and full of teeth if he wasn’t. He learnt of pain most acutely, recognising the gnawing emptiness within himself to be that of longing. Longing for home, for the earth and sky and everything in between, he had thought, but he knew better now.

Longing was a snake which lay slumbering in the bitter winters of his heart only to rear on itself in the absence of his captor. It was a heat which uncoiled and melted his senses into something else, something alien and frightening. Once astir, he found that it would not be quelled and it would not be ignored. It only lay smouldering in the plains of his scorched barren soul until he could bear it no longer.

Burrowing deep into the furs heaped to his bed – which had been a gift since he was always so  _cold_ here – he reached, trembling, for his treacherous need.

His hand flew to his neck, fingering the tender bruises left there by suckling lips and nibbling teeth. He wrapped his other hand around himself, fancied that he could  _feel_ the tug of leather as he was milked, gasping and writhing, at a rapidly mounting pace, toes curling into the soft rabbit pelts. His knees spread and fell apart of their own, remembering the heat and hardness which had stretched and filled him so impossibly there… _oh how he longed for it again!_

_“Hair the colour of wheat and eyes the colour of a summer sky…”_

Words spoken in a gentle lover’s murmur.

“ _…if I am Hades, then you are my Persephone_.”

As he brought his stained trembling hand to his lips to lick at his seeds, he let out a desperate but pleasured sob. He had allowed himself to be consumed. He was lost.


	2. Pomegranate Seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was in the mood to indulge in a little purple prose today.

A fire had been lit in the fireplace. The flames licked at the ash-blackened stones as the fragrance of burning wood drifted to fill the room, but the heat was negligible.

Soft, chaste kisses were falling on his skin like a dusting of snow. He felt a nip at the side of his mouth, a whisper down the length of his neck, and a cool sprinkling over the expanse of his chest and abdomen. He drank them in as freshly-turned soil soaks in the first snowflakes, his body shifting to meld to those wandering winter-chapped lips.

Oh those lips! They mapped across his skin as if to chart the constellation of his pleasures, sweeping skilfully from one delectable sensation to another. When they arrived, guided by a trail of fine hair, to the fruits of their patient labour, it was to find him ripe and swollen with a treacherous desire.

The teasing came soft and merciless there. Feathery kisses pressed along the stem, and a tongue flicked its tip to the underside of the head. It stoked at his passion until he could bear it no more.

“No, _please_!” he begged as a cold breath rolled playfully over his heated flesh.

A quiet laugh rang in his ears, light and pleasantly amused. Then a penance; lips parting and enveloping the tip, mouth slowly drawing in the length of his arousal, tongue pressing like warm velvet to his throbbing need…

He arched into the warmth, ignoring the chill that bit at his exposed skin as the fur throws peeled and slid from him. Wanton sighs fell from his lips in a rosary of sweet prayers, occasionally punctuated by a low broken moan. And there was the sound of the act itself. It was wet, breathy and lewdly eager, and he could feel himself blush to hear it.

His hips were slowly thrusting of their own accord, seeking to build on his stimulation. When firm leather-gloved hands pinned him down, he submitted readily to the tyranny of his desires.

After he had peaked, his toes curling into soft rabbit furs as he gave his seeds, he fell into a sated stupor as sleep weighed heavy on his eyelids.

His captor and lover rose to peck a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, tasting of him.

 _I love you_ , came the barest of a whispered sigh.

His lips curved into a smile in spite of himself.


End file.
